Changed For The Better
by S.T. Emerald
Summary: It's Wicked with a modern twist. I changed the name of the characters to make it my own little creation. I hope it's satisfactory. Dedicated to my very best friend, the Galinda to my Elphaba, Magen. Yeah, I suck at summaries.


Before you begin to read this special fan fiction I'd like to explain a few things. Most of what you are about to read is true. The story has been changed slightly to make it more like Wicked. This fan fiction is dedicated to my friend, my best friend, Magen. The Galinda to my Elphaba. Yes, she is blind but she couldn't be more like Galinda than anyone. Enjoy.

When I walked into my first day of 7th grade I was clearly the one no body wanted to be friends with. I dressed like… well, like a male. My hair was cut very short and I wore black boy shirts and usually jeans or black dress pants. I didn't care much about the comments and glares I got from my peers. I didn't _choose_ to dress this way, but it felt weird any other way.

I walked to chorus class and noticed a preppy looking girl sitting in the very front of the room.

"Hello," she said half heartily. I waved. I didn't know she couldn't see it.

Students started to fill the room. Most just avoided me, other laughed and pointed. I heard some comments like 'he-she' and 'cross dresser'. I glared at them.

The chorus teacher stood in front of the class. Her hair 'half up-half down' as she would put it. Wicked and Rent posters hung from the walls and she pointed to them explaining about each one. My attention was drawn to the Wicked one. I've always loved the Wizard of Oz and this musical looked like something I could really get into.

"Now, since we don't have enough shelves, music folders and storage space, everyone will be forced to share with a class mate," the chorus teacher, Mrs. A, as we called her announced.

She proceeded to hand out little slips of paper with the name of your partner. I never received one so I raised my hand.

"Mrs. A, I didn't receive a partner."

"I didn't either," someone said from across the room.

"You can be partners, Miss. Samantha and Miss. Magen," Mrs. A decided. Mrs. A had pronounced the name as 'Meghan'. The girl raised her hand again and said proudly,

"It's Magen. Like, 'May-Gen', not Meg-an."

"Sorry, Meghan," Mrs. A said half heartedly. The girl made a very loud 'huff' noise.

I looked across the room and noticed the one who I had unfortunately been pared with. The blonde one….

The next day I arrived to chorus class and went to retrieve my music folder. I trudged to my folder-mate and noticed she was putting away a cane of some sort.

"What's that," I pointed to the cane she had folded and tucked into a pouch.

"What's what?" Magen asked me.

"That thing you were putting away," I explained while sitting down next to her.

"If you must know, Miss. Samantha, it's a cane. I need to get around," she said crossly.

"Why?" I asked.

"I can't see," she explained, "Just because we share a folder and a shelf does not make us friends. I don't want to be seen talking to you."

I didn't bother to glare at her; I just pursed my lips and went over a million insults in my head.

Mrs. A had begun to teach us about notes and signs in music. I caught on quickly.

I noticed that Mrs. A had written something wrong down on the board. She had put down that when a flat appears in music it needs a sharp to cancel it out. It was an easy mistake to make… kind of… I raised my hand immediately.

"Excuse me, Mrs. A. Doesn't a natural return the music to its 'natural' state," I tried to explain, not really knowing much about music. I was working on an impulse.

"I don't see anything wrong with my notes, Miss. Samantha," Mrs. A continued with her speech about half notes.

"There is clearly an error in your notes, Mrs. A. Naturals do return flats and sharps to the original 'state'," I explain with an edge to my voice.

She glanced at her notes again.

"You are right. The advanced 8th grade class didn't even point that out. Have you considered a career in music, my dear?" Mrs. A asked, suddenly interested in what I had to say.

"Not really," I said flatly, hoping to stop the attention I was drawing.

"I must enroll you into one of my more advanced classes after school. Why, with proper teaching you could even go to All-State, maybe with even greater training you may have use to the Superior Andrew Lloyd Webber!"

I blinked.

"Really?"

"My dear, my dear, I'll write at once to Mr. Webber and tell him of you in advance. Perhaps he has use for you after all."


End file.
